


Helena Potter and the Never-Ending War

by Kenziemightbecrazy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Brother-Sister Relationships, Character Death, Dumbledore's Army, Harry Potter Has a Twin, Male-Female Friendship, Mild Language, Original Character(s), POV Original Female Character, Severus Snape Lives, Violence, Voldemort Returns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:46:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21552502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kenziemightbecrazy/pseuds/Kenziemightbecrazy
Summary: Helena Potter is the fraternal twin of the infamous Harry Potter. After the series of events towards the end of their fourth year at Hogwarts, each of the Potter siblings must find a way to cope with the return of He Who Shall Not Be Named.Now their fifth Hogwarts year approaches and neither Potter twin is the same as they were the year before. Tensions rise and Voldemort's dark forces grow in the shadows. The Order of the Phoenix rises and works to defend the Potter twins as best they can. The Ministry can no longer be trusted and the threat of danger grows daily. And then there's Hogwarts' new management: the terrible and annoying Dolores Umbridge.Everyone is preparing for the inevitable fight. Helena Potter and co. have started an army. Now they only need to survive the war.
Relationships: Harry Potter & Original Female Character(s), Hermione Granger & Original Female Character(s), Ron Weasley & Original Female Character(s), Severus Snape & Original Female Character(s), Sirius Black & Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1: The Aftermath of a Bad Ending

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! So, I've never posted my writing, so I'd love some feedback on how I do and what I can do to improve the story.  
> To set the stage, the story takes place at the beginning of the fifth movie. I've selected Chloe Bennet as a character reference for my character Helena Potter. Helena and Harry are fraternal twins, so Helena looks more like Lily with the copper hair and green eyes.  
> So, yeah! Enjoy, send feedback, and I hope I do the Harry Potter world justice!

Chapter 1

The blazing heatwave that blew through England had stayed longer than expected. Aunt Petunia had taken to lounging on the sofa in a bathing suit with a handheld fan while my Uncle Vernon resorted to vacuuming down whole pints of ice cream in an effort to cool off. I was too stubborn to let the heat get to me. I came out to the backyard every day, regardless of the temperature. In the backyard, my Aunt and Uncle had let me set up a punching bag. Of course, I was only allowed such a luxury because Dudley wanted it and, whatever the brat wanted, he got. I was able to use it when Dudley wasn’t around, though, so I chose not to complain. 

  
My wrapped fists made a loud thumping sound as I landed blows on the bag. The sun was unrelenting, beating down on my shoulders and the back of my neck. Those areas were already an angry shade of red and the salty sweat that covered my body in a thick layer made the sting even worse. I didn’t stop coming out, though. Practicing was more important than a silly little sunburn. 

  
The end of my fourth year at Hogwarts had been one of the worst to date. My last vivid memory had kept me up every night since the school year ended. The image of my brother huddled over the dead body of Cedric Diggory and screaming about Voldemort’s return. A surge of new energy forced my fists to hit the bag harder, though my lungs were heaving with exhaustion. Seeing my brother that way, knowing what had started; it terrified me. It kept me from sleep and plagued my dreams with horrible nightmares. Voldemort was back, had already killed, and was now nowhere to be found. He’d been so close to my brother. That part was always the worst. Knowing how close he’d been to stealing my brother from me. Sometimes in my nightmares, I’d be forced to stare into Harry’s cold, dead eyes. I usually woke up screaming. 

  
But I wasn’t the only one. Nor was I experiencing the worst of it. Harry had been having nightmares, too. He talked and screamed in his sleep, too. But, in his dreams, he was forced to relive that night in a different, much worse way. He’d been distant, more closed off lately. I was there for him as best as I could be, but seeing him this way was difficult. At night, I allowed my sadness to take over. I huddled up at the corner of my bed and cried – making sure to be quiet so no one would know. But during the day, I didn’t feel like crying. During the day, I wanted to scream, to throw something, to hit something. So outside I came to train myself. 

  
My sore muscles burned by the time I stopped. Coming out of my head and back into the present-day was disappointing. I felt useless, powerless. Somewhere out there, Voldemort was back to find us and kill us. There was nothing I could do to stop it and I couldn’t decide if that fact made me more angry or anxious. 

  
Every small movement made my sunburnt back, shoulders, and neck scream in pain as I limped through the house on sore legs. Up the stairs, and into the bathroom I went. My hair and body were so drenched in sweat that I looked like I’d jumped in a pool. The shower knobs squeaked as I turned the cold water on. Stripping out of my clothes made me hiss in pain but, when I got the burns under the cold water, I felt relief. 

  
I closed my eyes and allowed my tired lungs to draw in steady breaths. My mind wandered back to dark places. Voldemort was coming for us. It was inevitable. The only uncertainty was when he would show himself – and whether or not we’d be ready. It made my heart race to think that we may not be. It made me want to go back outside and keep training until I was invincible enough to feel safe. But the reality was that I knew no amount of training would make me feel ready. No matter how well I could defend myself, the fear that suffocated me would still be there. The possibility of feeling safe or normal kept slipping further and further out of my reach with each passing day. 

  
Once I’d thoroughly scrubbed the dirt and sweat from my body, I stepped out, dried myself off, and threw on my jumbled clothes. Stood in front of the bathroom mirror, I started to brush out my drenched hair. The girl I stared at in the mirror didn’t seem like me. The 5’4 girl clad in a giant black t-shirt and shorts with soaked copper hair, light green eyes, and pale skin seemed the same. It was the dark circles under my eyes and the tired look on my face that made me unfamiliar to myself. I wasn’t the only one either. Harry’s eyes had acquired the same tired, trauma-induced dullness to them. I couldn’t explain why seeing it in his eyes scared me more than seeing it in my own. 

  
I could hear the front door creak open downstairs and hurried to finish my hair so I could leave the bathroom. Harry had taken to leaving the house on his own, spending most of his days on the open lands outside our suburb. He’d spend all day out there by himself. I typically didn’t go with him. I understood that being alone was his way of coping. Just like training was mine. But Harry hadn’t been his usual self towards me and, even though I gave him his privacy, I always hoped for our old relationship every time he came home.

  
Once the knots were out of my hair, I threw it up into a messy bun and scurried down the stairs. On my way down, however, I heard Vernon and Petunia’s fussing and cooing from the living room. Dudley must have come home, then. He’d taken to leaving the house, too. He would be out all day with his juvenile friends. Every time they came to the house, I wanted to punch their annoying, pre-pubescent looking faces.

  
The scene I came upon when I entered the living room wasn’t one I expected. Harry was sitting at the kitchen counter, staring at Vernon and Petunia as they worried over a seated Dudley. He sat in the armchair completely dazed with a garbage bin wrapped in his arms. 

  
“Uh, what’s going on here?” I spoke up as I watched Dudley rock back and forth. Vernon snapped his disdainful gaze to me, showing his teeth in a way I knew he thought was threatening.

  
“Your devil of a brother has finally done it,” He exclaimed, “He’s finally driven the boy loony!” 

  
“Vernon! Don’t say that!” Petunia hissed. I looked at Harry, hoping to find an answer. He sat with his hands folded in his lap and that look in his eye. The look he always had when something had happened. I raised my eyebrows at him, silently asking for answers. He shook his head at me and shrugged his shoulders as a reply. 

  
“Oh, just look at him, Petunia! The poor boys gone nutty!” Vernon scuffed, waving a hand at his son. Petunia glared at him and squeezed Dudley’s shoulders tightly, cooing in his ear quietly. Vernon turned his beady eyes towards me with a glare of pure distaste. He took my upper arm in a vice grip and shoved me in Harry’s direction angrily. I stumbled on my feet, but Harry jumped from his seat and caught me before I fell. With an angry look in his eyes, Harry waited for me to steady myself before shoving me behind him. He knew I could take them down if I needed to, but my heart warmed at his protectiveness nonetheless. I grabbed his wrist and squeezed lightly, sending him a quick, appreciative nod. 

  
“I’ve had enough of the two of you, you hear? This is the last time I’m gonna put up with you and your nonsense!” Vernon seethed. I grimaced as I watched the spit fly from his mouth. 

  
Whatever retort Harry or I was about to throw Vernon’s way was cut off when a bird launched itself through the open back door and into the room. A loud thump greeted our ears when the bird hit the ceiling. The poor thing screeched when its head met the solid surface and then he plummeted to the floor. And that’s when I saw the letter. The bird was an owl, delivering a message. The small owl flipped himself right side up and screeched at us before flying out the way he came as if he hadn’t just given himself a head injury. 

  
Suddenly, the letter flew into the air, the back of the letter morphing into an almost face. The black wax insignia had turned into lips, which moved as the letter began to speak.

  
“Dear Mr. Potter,” The letter began, “the Ministry has received word that at 6:23 of this evening, you performed the Patronus Charm in the presence of a muggle. As this is a violation of the clear restriction of underage sorcery, you are hereby expelled from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Hoping you are well, Mafalda Hopkirk.” 

  
Silence filled the room as the letter’s face disappeared and it regained gravity. My eyes were wide and my mouth agape. I dug my nails into Harry’s wrist, pulling him to face me. Before I could begin to interrogate my brother, Vernon’s gruff, annoying voice rang out.

  
“Ah! Finally, some justice!” He celebrated, smiling at us gleefully. I glared at my rotund, infuriating Uncle. If he had been closer, I’d have punched him hard enough to make him as loopy as his son. 

  
“Vernon,” Petunia spoke up, “what are we going to do about Dudley?” She questioned worriedly. Vernon sighed and turned to his wife and dazed son.

  
“We’ll have to take him to the hospital.” He grumbled as he pulled Dudley to his feet. 

  
“You!” Vernon shouted at me, “Be useful and open the door for us.” 

  
I scuffed at him, but let go of Harry’s wrist and walked to the door. The thump of Harry’s footsteps sounded out behind me as I stood in the doorway, watching Vernon and Petunia sneak to the car. I shook my head at the way they were acting. Their shallowness and the lengths they went to in order to keep their reputation continued to astound me. With a sigh, I stepped away from the doorway and allowed the door to shut. Just as the door clicked into place a loud bang from upstairs made me jump. I pinched the bridge of my nose and then began my ascent up the stairs and to the room Harry and I shared. 

  
Harry had his forearms and forehead against the wooden doors of his wardrobe when I walked in.

  
“I guess I don’t need to ask what that bang was,” I said, announcing my presence. Harry slowly peeled himself off of the wardrobe with a deep sigh. He stooped down, picking up the moving picture of our parents dancing in each other’s arms. 

  
“Sorry.” He apologized distractedly as he straightened. He turned around and slumped down onto his bed, setting the picture on his nightstand and staring at it. I sat on my twin-sized bed against the opposite wall, watching my brother gaze at our parent’s photo sadly. 

  
“Harry, what the hell happened?” I asked gently. He looked down at his lap and his left hand reached up to tangle in the back of his black tresses. 

  
“Dudley and I were attacked by Dementors.” He sighed, looking up at me and pushing his round glasses up his nose. My heart stopped for a moment. Yet another opportunity for the world to take my brother away from me. I sputtered for a moment before swallowing and starting again.

  
“What?! Why the hell would Dementors attack you?” I questioned, outrage on the tip of my tongue. “This - this is why they expelled you? They can't do that! You were defending yourself!” 

  
“Look ‘Lena, I don’t really want to talk about it right now.” Harry retorted harshly. I raised an eyebrow at him – he wasn’t the type to be snappy with me. He knew I’d have his ass for it. 

  
“Sorry.” He apologized again. The torment in his eyes made me soften. Harry had the tendency to get snappy when he was dealing with something difficult. Witnessing someone’s murder and then having to fight off a grown man hell-bent on killing you would definitely count as difficult. I’d let him have it this time. 

  
“It's fine, I get it.” I reassured him, “But I just – you know that I’m here, right? That I love you and I’d do anything for you?” A small smirk stretched on my brother’s face.

  
“Anything, huh? Including doing my laundry?” He questioned, mischief in his eyes. I scoffed, rolling my eyes in an overexaggerated way.

  
“Let's not go that far,” I replied playfully. And for the first time since the end of our fourth year, my brother and I laughed. We were smiling. Neither of us content, but at least we had each other.

  
“I love you, Har Bear.” I teased, ruffling his hair. He groaned at the dumb nickname, but for once didn’t fight it. He and I stood up, meeting in the middle for a bear hug. 

  
“I love you too, Lena.”


	2. Chapter 2: Moody's Rescue Party

A hand shaking my shoulder was what brought me out of my fitful sleep. 

  
“Lena!” I heard Harry’s voice whisper. I gasped, sitting straight up in bed and rubbing the crust from my sleepy eyes. Harry stood next to my bed, his eyes wide and alert and his wand at the ready. I furrowed my brows, sitting up in bed and forgetting the dream-filled sleep that plagued me that night. Before I could ask him what was wrong, another loud bang rang out. The sound scared me into full alertness and I twisted to grab my own wand from the nightstand at the head of my bed. 

  
Harry and I stood side by side in the middle of our room, wands aimed at the door. Another bang, and then another. And then, a flash of blinding light and hushed voices. At least one of them was familiar to me. 

  
“Moody?” I called out cautiously. Someone raised their wand and the room filled with light again. The wand’s owner was a woman with purple hair and a black choker necklace. Behind her was Moody, accompanied by others behind him. 

  
“Professor Moody? What are you doing here?” Harry asked, lowering his wand. I followed his lead, lifting the back of my giant shirt and placing my wand in the back pocket of my shorts.

  
“We’re rescuing you lot, of course,” Moody replied, his gruff voice deep and gravelly as I remembered.

  
Moody rushed us to get our shoes on. Both Harry and I stumbled around the low-lit room putting on our beat-up converse sneakers and hunting down Harry’s jacket. Once we were dressed, Moody swept us out the door and into the night. The air wasn’t as hot as it had been during the day, but I was grateful to be wearing a giant black t-shirt and black jean shorts. How Harry could wear a jacket in the heat, I wouldn’t ever understand. 

  
“Moody, where are we going? The Ministry said I've been expelled from Hogwarts.” Harry rattled out as he tried to keep pace with the limping Auror. He led the group of us out into the middle of the street, his walking stick clacking on the ground with each step.

  
“No, you haven’t. Not yet.” Moody growled out without looking at him. One of the wizards who accompanied Moody, a black man in purple robes, placed a hand on my left shoulder to hurry me forward. The group of us had formed into a line in the middle of the road. Harry and I stood to Moody’s left and we were surrounded on either side by the other wizards and witches. I furrowed my brows at Moody’s comment. The letter had seemed pretty clear to me. 

  
“But his letter said –” 

  
“Harry’s expulsion has been postponed, pending a formal hearing.” The black man – Kingsley - explained distractedly. Each of the witches and wizards in Moody’s group was watching all around us, scanning our surroundings. Their display of carefulness and urgency made that familiar feeling bubble in my chest. That apprehensiveness, that feeling that something was wrong or coming even though no immediate danger was around. 

  
“A hearing?!” Harry exclaimed. His voice had raised in volume and he was quickly hushed by Moody. From Moody’s right, the purple-haired witch leaned forward to address us.

  
“Don’t worry guys, we’ll explain when we get back to Headquarters.” She assured us confidently. Moody whipped his head towards her, growling and hushing her harshly.

  
“Not here, Nymphadora!” He reprimanded. Nymphadora snapped her gaze to him. Her glare could have turned him to ash. 

  
“Don’t call me Nymphadora!” She demanded. My eyes widened as her hair faded into an angry, fiery red hue. Moody rolled his eyes at her, tapping his walking stick on the ground twice. It made a deep thunk each time the wood struck the road. 

  
All of a sudden, brooms materialized before each of us. Each of them, one at a time, began to fly to their respective owners. I gasped, just managing to catch my broom before the thing hit me in the face. I felt Kingsley’s hand back on my shoulder and met his gaze. He had a small smirk on his face and it was obvious he held in a chuckle. Harry didn’t bother to hold his in. I turned to my brother, glaring at the side of his head.

  
“Funny,” I whispered, gently elbowing my brother in the ribs. 

  
“Everyone stay in formation,” Moody instructed, “Don’t break ranks if one of us is killed.” Harry and I locked eyes, both of us gobsmacked by the blunt warning. 

  
I admit it, I wasn’t the greatest flyer. I was decent, but I was nowhere near as comfortable on a broom as Harry was. That particular gene hadn’t graced me with its presence. My hands gripped the broomstick tightly as I tried not to think about how easy it’d be for me to slip off. 

  
We were in a ‘V’ formation with Moody leading the charge. He’d led us above the city and over the water, our feet dangling only a few feet above the river. The wind whipped my hair in every direction and kicked up some of the water beneath me. I was wet and pretty sure that my hair would be a rat’s nest when we landed. 

  
I braved a glance at my brother. He smiled and laughed as he and Nymphadora played around on their brooms, weaving to and fro. The exhilaration on his face made me smile. I hadn’t seen him so himself in what felt like forever.

  
When we finally landed, we were behind a black iron fence. Beyond it, a road separated us from the long row of townhouses opposite us. My nose scrunched at the horrid smell as a garbage truck rolled by. Our brooms had been taken care of – where they went, I don’t know. Moody continued to lead our small company, slowly opening the fence gate and poking his head out. Once he deemed the coast clear, he limped out onto the road and gestured for us to follow. 

  
Moody halted us on the opposite side of the road. We all stood in a small, tight grouping, staring up at the row of townhouses before us. Moody lifted his wooden walking stick, thumping it on the pavement three times.

  
For a moment, nothing happened. And then I felt the vibration in the ground. The townhouses started to shake as they would during an earthquake. My mouth hung open as I watched the townhouses move. They pulled apart, slowly exposing a secret townhouse. It was darker and dustier than the others. The windows and balconies fixed into place as they were pulled into view. I looked through the windows of the other townhouses. 

  
None of the muggles seemed to register the shaking – one house even had a fish tank that was sloshing water. But still, none noticed. Eventually, the dark and dusty townhouse came fully into view. The last thing to appear was a black fence; the same as the fencing on the other townhouses. It popped up and into place with a grunt and then the vibrations were gone. 

  
“In you get.” Moody voiced, gesturing for us to go inside. Harry turned to look at me with an astonished smile on his face. I shrugged at him with a smile, stepping forward and opening the townhouse door. 

  
The old, black door creaked loudly as I pushed it open. Behind the door was a long, narrow hallway. Harry and I had to go in one at a time due to its small size. Harry walked in first, his dirty converse’ kicking up dust from the checkered floor.   
Which was absolutely coated in a thick layer, by the way. The black paint on the walls had begun to chip some time ago and the framed pictures on the walls were all slightly crooked. The hallway was very dimly lit, giving it an old, creepy vibe. On the other side of the long hall was another black door, from behind which we could hear faint voices.

  
I practically jumped out of my converse’ when Moody’s wooden walking stick connected with my shoulder, gently shoving me out of the limping man’s way. I wasn’t proud of the frightened noise that left my throat. Moody, however, paused briefly to chuckle and pat my shoulder heartily. I tried my best to glare at him, but I couldn’t hold back the smile and laugh that forced themselves from me. 

  
After Moody finally passed, he was followed by Nymphadora – whom I caught winking at my brother playfully as she passed – and the others in Moody’s company. Moody’s walking stick clanked on the wooden floor as he walked towards the black door, throwing it open and limping inside. I couldn’t hold in the amused laugh when Nymphadora tripped over a bag whilst staring at Harry. 

  
She, Kingsley, and the others followed Moody into the room. The faint voices we heard were clearer now. It sounded like an argument or debate. I gasped as Kingsley and Nymphadora moved away, revealing the faces behind the voices. Remus Lupin and Mr. Wealsy were arguing quietly with a man between them. 

  
“Sirius,” I whispered happily. Long-haired with a bushy-but-well-kept beard, he looked much better than when we’d last seen him in person. The argument between the three silenced when Sirius and the others made eye-contact with us. He seemed taken aback for a moment, staring at us silently. A wide smile spread on my face and tears began to collect in my eyes. 

  
Suddenly, Mrs. Weasley’s warm face and plump body took up the empty space in the doorway. 

  
“Oh Harry, Helena!” She gushed gleefully. I loved Mrs. Wealsy to pieces, but my smile did falter when she stepped forward and shut the door behind her. I sniffed and blinked rapidly to get rid of the unshed, happy tears. 

  
“Mrs. Weasley,” I replied happily. I snuck a fleeting glance at my brother. He seemed even more disappointed than I was. My hand reached over and gave my brother’s wrist a quick squeeze.

  
“Thank heavens you’re alright!” Mrs. Weasly exclaimed. She stood in front of the door with her arms out, waiting for a hug. When my brother didn’t immediately step forward to embrace her, I took his place. She smiled at me warmly, wrapping my body up and hugging me tightly. Mrs. Weasley’s hugs were always so warm and motherly. I liked to imagine that this would’ve been what it felt like to hug my mother. And, somehow, I think Mrs. Weasley knew that. It made me love her all the more.

  
She and I parted from each other with one last, tight squeeze. She brushed my hair behind my ear with a smile on her face, then shuffled passed me to wrap Harry up in a similar embrace. They broke away after a few moments and Mrs. Wealsey cupped Harry’s face in her hands lovingly. 

  
“You two must be hungry,” She stated kindly, “but I'm afraid dinner will have to wait until after the meeting.” Harry stuttered for an answer, raising a hand and gesturing towards the now closed door. “No,” She interrupted, “no time to explain. Straight upstairs and first door on the left.” She instructed, gesturing to the stairs on our right. Harry began the trek up the stairs, flashing her a confused expression. She nodded her head at him encouragingly, but I could see the worry in her eyes.

  
“What’s going on, Mrs. Wealsey?” I asked her gently. She sighed, placing a hand on my upper arm and rubbing it soothingly. 

  
“Best not to worry yourself yet, dear.” She evaded, “You’d best go get settled. Up with you. You’ll be in the room next to Harry’s.”


End file.
